Neon Tiger
by AllOverTheWorld
Summary: I've been in this position before, except those times I've either been in it voluntarily or at least able to escape. Not this time. No, this time I have a gun pressed into my temple by a killer. Mac's POV.


**Title: Neon Tiger **

**Author: AllOverTheWorld **

**Ships: SMACked (sort of) **

**Summary: I've been in this position before, except those times I've been there voluntarily or I could have easily escaped, not this time. No, this time I am utterly and completely at the will of the murderer who has a gun pressed tight into my temple. Not really the best place to be.**

**Author's Note: The title of this story has no real connection at all, I simply pressed the shuffle button on my Itunes and this is what played. Enjoy. **

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The silence is suffocating, like the forearm of the man holding me hostage. I've been in this position before, except those times I've been there voluntarily or I could have easily escaped, not this time. No, this time I am utterly and completely at the will of the murderer who has a gun pressed tight into my temple. Not really the best place to be.

The world is sort of hazy; the edges of Flack, Danny and Lindsey are all blurred, as if they are trying to become one with the air. Every sound is amplified, except right now there is no sound, none except my own labored breathing and the raspy breaths of my captor. My heart is pounding in my ears except I barely notice it, the pain in my leg is overwhelming most of sensory capabilities. I blink and it takes a monumental effort not to just close my eyes and sink into the black abyss that is waiting, oh so invitingly, for me.

"You don't want to add the murder of a NYPD cop to your rap sheet, do you Bobby."

The calm collected voice of Stella breaks through the silence and her voice gives me some semblance of strength, enough to open my eyes. She is the only one of the four cops standing before me that is not blurry, as I said before, the rest seem to be trying to meld into the universe. I see her eyes clearest of all, the intensity of their gaze almost hides the fear I see in her eyes, almost. I think though, that if I didn't know Stella as well as I did I would not be able to see the fear in her eyes. However I do know her, working with someone for over a decade can do that, and I know that beneath the resolve and the gears working frantically, trying to find a way out of this mess, there is fear.

It is not your typical 'oh there's a guy with a gun fear', no Stella has seen that too many times for it to even phase her any more. This is more of the 'this guy is a real psycho and will pull the trigger out of boredom if we don't do something soon type of fear.

"Does it matter? I'm already going to hell, what difference does it make if I drag a stupid pig down with me?"

His voice is resolute and almost mocking, we both know she won't be able to talk him out of it.

"Just put the gun down and we can talk about you going to hell."

That's Flack's voice and if the situation weren't so serious I might smile, but I do have a gun to my head and there is a strong chance I won't survive so…

My head is pounding, like a construction crew took a set of jackhammers to my temporal lobe. I close my eyes, this time in an attempt to minimize the headache by closing off the light. It doesn't do much besides make me feel like I'm going to pass out.

"You don't have to do this you know."

I said the words before I knew what I was talking about and the silence that follows either means that I had some sort of impression or I've gone deaf.

Wrong.

"You're right" Bobby says, his tone of voice casual "I don't have to." Uh-oh, I don't like where this is going "But I want to. All my life I've had people tell me 'Bobby you don't want to do that, it's too dangerous.' Well now, now I'm making my own decisions."

I open my eyes again and this time it seems like Stella has inched a little bit closer but hey, this is coming from the man who thinks his other colleagues are trying to melt into the atmosphere. Our eyes meet fora a brief moment as she scans my body, trying to read my face, and once again I see that fear, hidden behind the veil of strength she wears so well.

In that brief glance I know that our options are running out and sooner or later a trigger is going to get pulled, it's just a matter of who the bullet is going to hit.

"You all have ten seconds to get out of here, or watch me murder your boss."

I see Danny and Flack both tense, Lindsey raises her gun slightly higher and Stella, she just stares are Bobby.

"Ten."

Claire. It's not surprising she is the first person that flashes to my mind when a killer is counting down the seconds until he pulls the trigger. I will always love her, always have, always will. Maybe no I'll get to see her again.

"Nine."

I see Stella share a glance with Flack and I know something is about to happen, they are about to make their move.

"Eight."

I have a lot of regrets, it suddenly hits me like a train. There are so many people that I've hurt, so many things that I've said in my life that have been horrible. The worst part is that through all of that, one person has been there to pick up the pieces of my life.

"Seven."

Stella. She disserves a spot in my memories because after September 11th 2001 the downward spiral I began was a dangerous, almost deadly one and not just for me. Never once did she complain, never once did she snap at me (unless I needed it).

"Six."

I have taken a lot of risks in my life time. Joining the Marines, going directly into enemy fire, perusing armed killers, that kind of thing, except out of all of that, there is one risk I couldn't take. I would risk my life, I often do, but as much as I do that, I cant risk my, me.

"Five."

Stella and I have been dancing between friendship and something more for a while now. At least that's what I think of it. I know that I have wanted to move on to something greater (since I chased her to Greece) but some part of me held back. Maybe it was the devastated part that tried to kid myself into thinking she didn't want me (I'm thinking Peyton). Maybe it was the part of me that died with Claire, the emotions that followed that day will haunt me for the rest of my life, maybe I dont want to get that close to anyone again. Except it's a little late for that. Maybe I'm just a coward.

"Four."

I am a coward.

"Three."

I was to afraid of getting hurt again, of loosing the one person who kept me sane, to risk taking that one step, saying those four words, that, that is my biggest regret.

"Two."

I close my eyes, I will not die a happy man, no, not by a long shot. However I cherish my friendship with Stella and maybe, maybe she'll be able to move on, carry the team through this. I just wish I could tell her.

A shot rings out.

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**Take the ending how you will, I like the idea of leaving it open ended. **

**This is my first time writing in first person from Mac's POV so for all of you authors who know him (and write him) so much better than I do I would love your input. Also this was my first 'Mac is distress' fic and to be honest, it was kind of fun writing him in trouble. More might follow. **

**Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed it and will tide any of my readers for **_**Come Home **_**over until the next update (which will be soon I promise) **

**Thanks, **

**AllOverTheWorld **


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